


Regrets and Epiphanies

by totallyclueless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deathly Hallows but its a twist, F/M, M/M, No explicit details sry, Post-War, im bad at this so idk what to tag, mentions of sex?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyclueless/pseuds/totallyclueless
Summary: And again, he thought of the storm that was Draco Malfoy and how he had never liked rain; all the sadness seeping through his skin, and yet he had greedily absorbed every bit of Malfoy. Whispers in the dark, discrete kisses on the cheeks and their voices mellow behind sheets, intoxicated by lust and want- he had loved every bit of it.OrHarry's ready, or so he tells himself, for the final face-off between him and Voldemort.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Drarry - Relationship, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Slight Hinny - Relationship
Kudos: 23





	Regrets and Epiphanies

**Author's Note:**

> I sincerely apologise for the mess you are about to read. Feel free to criticise hehe

Harry remembers. He especially remembers one instance during the war- just before he left to face Voldemort for the last time- meeting Ginny again. Out of everyone, she was the one he had wanted to avoid at all costs. It was terrible timing really, for he had just finished willing away the last flames of his desire for her. It wasn’t easy shedding all his emotions but like a soldier, he grimly told himself that war came first, above all endeavors.

Staring into her teary eyes, he suddenly realised with a start that once, it would have been dead easy for him to lose himself in those pools of blue. Once feisty and cheeky and now he could have been looking into a stranger’s eyes for all he knew. _Fred_ , he thought miserably, as he took in her flaming red hair and determined lips. And underneath the moonlight, for a fleeting second, Harry caught a glimpse of the girl he had so carelessly loved.

“Ginny-“ and she reached forward and kissed him. Desperate fingers clawing at his hair, ragged breaths, and her blazing look. The kiss was foggy and bitter and inexplicably, he found himself thinking of Draco Malfoy. How it would have felt if he, Harry, had not broken it off to go ' _cavort with the weaslette_ ' as a very distraught Malfoy had put it.

Malfoy.

What was he doing now? After the sectumsempra stunt in sixth year, Harry had sullenly distanced himself from the blonde. It was for the best really, everyone else’s best if he would just get it over with. And now, it felt like another goodbye; like he was leaving her and she was consoling herself, and Harry glumly realised it was not only selfish on her part but his too- for he really was walking to his death wasn’t he? He was heading straight for it.

All his heroes were gone: Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius, and even Remus. They were long gone, a part of his smoke-filled dreams and his nightmares as he hopelessly lay awake at night. There were nights like that of course when he would startle awake in terror, gasping for his parents only to see Ron and Hermione sleeping soundly beside him. But there were other times where he’d dream of Ginny, smiling softly at him but then she would turn into Draco Malfoy. Those illicit dreams often left Harry, flushed and in a very hard situation. Both metaphorically and physically.

_Malfoy._

Each step became easier once he thought of the aristocratic blonde.

He was heading closer now.

_“Harry,”_

Closer.

_“Don’t leave,”_

And he was there.

_“I love you, I really do.”_

He was _loved_. Harry wanted to go back and hug that eleven-year-old who stood in his too baggy jeans, who was never spared a second thought, who never knew what it felt like to be loved. Who stood in front of the mirror of Erised, longing for his parents- family, and yet complete strangers. Too late again, he thought bitterly, too late.

He was there.

He wanted it to be quick, while he could still stand tall though his body shivered in protest. And again, he thought of the storm that was Draco Malfoy and how he had never liked rain; all the sadness seeping through his skin, and yet he had greedily absorbed every bit of Malfoy. Whispers in the dark, discrete kisses on the cheeks and their voices mellow behind sheets, intoxicated by lust and want- he had loved every bit of it.

It would stop here tonight inevitably, but no one could take away the fact that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had loved each other no matter what. And that was enough.

_‘Avada Kedavra!’_

The war was over. They had won. Harry Potter returned that night, unmistakably back from the dead and more a hero than he had ever been. He had ended it that night, finished a battle that was never supposed to be his and the price he had paid was too heavy to bear. His heart felt sore, the reasons for all his overwhelming sadness lying still beneath the ground; out of sight but painfully fresh in mind.

A flash of blonde caught his eye as Harry moved past the tears and cries of celebration. His breathing quickened, desperately searching for the familiar silver eyes as his heart filled with hope. He was not disappointed. Harry could not remember who moved first; all that mattered was that he was in Draco Malfoy’s arms, kissing him fervently and it felt like only they existed in that space of time- everyone else could fuck themselves.

They stayed like that long after everyone else left. If Draco so much as shifted, Harry would feverishly clutch at his chest as though Draco would slip through his fingers and disappear, as so many people had before him.

Draco’s grasp on his waist tightened, “You suicidal wanker,” he hissed, “I was fucking- I thought I lost you! You think you’re great and all, playing the goddamn hero?” Harry was shaking, angry tears pricking his eyes but he maintained a stubborn silence. Draco noticed. “I’m sorry,” his voice broke, fragile and tired and Harry could see the fog in his lover’s eyes. “I really thought…”

The night was full of apologies and the making up for lost time. Names in honeyed tones uttered like a prayer, shades of blue flitting through windows and hands all over each other; euphoria like no other. They took in each other well, sacred whispers in the dark, and Harry decided that he really did love Draco.


End file.
